“Wfather, water everywhere / Not a drop to drink.” Famous lines from Coleridge’s The Rime of Ancient Mariner (1834) have entered the common language. They evoke the horror experienced by the bereaved or shipwrecked, surrounded by an immensity of salt water that, if drunk, will cause certain and quick death.
It is widely understood that seawater, even if consumed in small quantities, quickly leads to an overdose of salt, dehydration and kidney failure. Popular fiction and films contain many examples of naked sailors and shipwreck survivors in lifeboats driven mad by a raging thirst in the middle of a vast ocean.
But some people are just not willing to accept conventional thinking. One such man was a French doctor who rejoiced in the name of Alain Bombard. His determination to prove that humans could survive for long periods at sea in small ships – without food supplies and, most importantly, fresh water – led him on an extraordinary journey across the Atlantic 70 years ago , a journey that ended on a remote beach on the northwest coast of Barbados.
Bombard was not an intrepid adventurer in search of publicity, but a scientist with a theory to prove. In a 15-foot dinghy with a small triangular sail, equipped with the basic supplies that could be found in a lifeboat, he set sail from Las Palmas in the Canary Islands on October 19, 1952, beginning a 65-day passage to the drop on the ground. Caribbean.
This was no idle experiment, but a research mission carried out because Bombard had an idea that he thought could save many lives. Born (1924) and educated in Paris, he had worked as a doctor in a hospital in the northern French port town of Boulogne-sur-Mer, and there he saw first-hand the catastrophic nature of disasters at sea and the critical struggle for survival. in their consequences.
A sinking trawler caused 43 deaths in the fishing community of Boulogne in early 1951, and it was estimated that around 150 fishermen died each year in northern France – and perhaps 200,000 seafarers worldwide. Of these, it was estimated that at least a quarter died in the lifeboats of thirst, hunger and despair. The great loss of life during World War II among sailors and civilians had brought the deadly challenges and dangers of the sea into focus.
Dr Bombard’s theory was relatively simple: morale among the casualties could be maintained by the prospect of survival, and the chance of survival could be improved by hydration and nutrition. The sea, he thought, could provide both.
Nutrition could be obtained by eating fish, easily caught with rudimentary gear, and by consuming nutrient-rich plankton collected in fine nets and swallowed by spoons. As for water, rain can be captured and stored, and – more interestingly – half fillets of fish can be squeezed in a press to produce a liquid significantly less salty than the sea in which they live. He even thought that small amounts of seawater, if diluted with non-salty rainwater, would not cause serious harm to humans.
In 1952, Bombard was ready to test his hypothesis. A trial run from Monaco to Tangier and then Casablanca was successful – although a planned companion was probably sensibly dropped at this stage. Then in October, after a brief visit to Paris to see his newborn daughter, he set out from Las Palmas, equipped with a sextant, a canvas, some fishing tackle and – most importantly – a box of closed with food and water. If the seal was found to be broken, the mission would be considered a failure.
Bombard kept a diary of what happened next, later turning it into a successful early example of extreme travel writing. It was a “hungry thirsty hell,” he wrote, detailing the mixed diet of plankton and raw fish that sustained him. It hadn’t rained for three weeks, he had no idea where he was, and storms battered the little ship, snapping the mast and drenching the lone sailor.
The “volunteer castaway,” as he called himself, suffered numerous health problems—nausea, skin complaints, mild paranoia—and encountered alarming incidents as he was driven by erratic trade winds and erratic currents. Perhaps most disturbing was the arrival of the curious swordfish, whose sharp claws could easily have punctured his aptly named rubber boat The heretic.
Bombard admits he was close to despair when, on the 53rd day, a ship appeared on the horizon. of Araka – a freighter bound for British Guiana from Liverpool – saw him, approached him, and by a noise, the captain informed him that he was still 600 miles from his intended destination. Demoralized, Bombard accepted an invitation to come aboard, take a shower, send a telegram to his wife and, recklessly, eat a small lunch of fried eggs, liver and cabbage.
The effect on his fragile digestive system was catastrophic. However, despite the disheartening discovery of his position, Bombard decided to press on and sail once more. of ArakaThe captain, impressed by the Frenchman’s courage, promised to play his favorite part of Bach’s Bombard on the BBC’s Foreign Service on Christmas Day.
Revived by this chance encounter, Dr Bombard set sail, plagued by diarrhea and still hoping to reach the French territory of Martinique. The presence of seabirds and the subsequent appearance of a Dutch freighter bound for Trinidad confirmed that the raft was approaching land. But now the target changed to Barbados – still 70 miles away, but much closer than Martinique.
In his book The story of the bombing, he describes his excitement when he spotted a beam of lighthouse twinkling above the clouds in the dark sky. Negotiating the rocky northern coast of Barbados, he finally saw a beach and a group of fishermen helped the exhausted sailor ashore and dragged the dinghy onto the beach.
Bombard insists in his records that the seal on his emergency supplies remained unbroken and that he distributed canned food to excited locals. Exhausted, he was taken to the nearest police station where, with a French appreciation of colonial-era Britishness, he recalls:
The officer in charge was clearly at a loss to decide whether I was a pirate or an extremely stupid yachtsman, but with the brilliant correctness of the British policeman, who is at the same time father-confessor to those who were trusted with his charge, he sat. I down before a cup of tea and a piece of bread and butter.
It was Christmas Eve and the next day – as promised – the BBC broadcast Bach’s Brandenburg Concerts, dedicated to the volunteer lost. He had lost 55 kilograms in weight and was anemic, but, as he wrote, “I finally proved that I could quench my thirst with fish and that the sea itself provides the fluid necessary for health.”
Bombard’s voyage was widely reported, caused controversy (he was accused of using his own supplies) and was, above all, highly successful because it encouraged unprecedented discussion of survival techniques at sea. The idea of squeezing fish for fresh water was considered strange, but some of his ideas – better equipment in lifeboats in particular – led to action that undoubtedly saved lives.
He enjoyed his celebrity status, engaged in further adventures and in 1981 was appointed environment minister in the French government – opposing what he saw as the cruel business of foie gras production. It is not known if he continued to consume teaspoons of plankton, but he died aged 80 in 2005.
